In a couple short months, our little family of four will pack a moving truck full of boxes and make a move into our first official house. I am incredibly excited for this huge milestone in our lives. Purchasing our first house, moving in, and making it our own (hello, Pinterest!) is something that I have been looking forward to for almost two years now since we first started our house hunt. But while I can't wait to start this next chapter, I am also feeling emotional about leaving this house behind; the place that we first called home.
Since finding our new house, I have been left thinking about how much this house has seen.
If these walls could talk...
They would tell you of two giddy newlyweds who moved in on a warm September afternoon. They would tell you of the first dinners cooked, movie nights, lazy mornings spent in bed, and how even the most mundane chores seemed new and exciting because they were being done together.
They would tell you of life-changing conversations and ultimately, the decision to "see what happens" when it came to bringing a baby into the world. They would tell you of weeks of sickness, of heartache when the tests came back negative, and of complete and utter happiness when the doctors proved the tests wrong. They would tell you of the biggest hug in the kitchen when the news was shared; and the tears shed and excited "congratulations" heard when families were told.
They would tell you of a rainy day in early September when a beautiful baby girl was brought through the door for the first time. Of sleepless nights and hundreds of diapers changed, of furniture and clothes and carpets ruined by so... much... spit up. The walls would surely tell you how they thought they would burst from so much love.
These walls would tell of so many firsts with that amazing little girl: smiles, giggles, rolling over, first words, crawling, walking, and many more. They would tell you of hearts growing more than they ever thought they could.
The walls would tell you of major life changes and leaps of faith. Of leaving jobs and starting new ones, of silly arguments and making up, of learning to be patient with one another, of two people learning how to be the best parents they could be, and of a daughter surpassing all of our wildest hopes and dreams.
They would tell you of the decision to grow our family by one more. They would tell you of two positive tests taken four weeks later. They would tell you of excitement and a bit of nervousness that it was all happening so fast. They would tell of finding out the new life was a baby boy; of days spent arranging and rearranging (and rearranging again) furniture, trying to figure out how to make a shared bedroom work.
These walls would tell of a crisp, sunny October day when we walked through the door for the first time as four. They would tell you of hearts expanding with even more love than we could have imagined. They would tell you of adjustments and learning curves, more sleepless nights and diaper changes (and a whole lot of laughter when said diaper changes led to getting pee in the face and poop on the carpet).
The walls would tell you that we have it good. They would tell you that we are blessed beyond measure. And we would tell you that the walls are right.
I will miss the walls of this little house, but we will take the memories with us always: the sound of the trains that were sometimes (most times) irritating, the family walks to the "blue slide" down the road, the visions of Marleigh swinging from the tree in the back yard, spring afternoons spent enjoying the sunshine in the grass, playing with sidewalk chalk and bubbles in the drive way, and building projects in the garage.
I will always be grateful for the three-plus years spent in this house, our first home, and I can't wait to see what wonderful memories our new walls will be witness to in the years to come.